Day Eighty-Five
No internet/traveling = a bunch of days with no new posts
A few non-posted highlights are squished into my memory, but about yesterday...
BIG day. It was my three month follow-up. I followed the assistant to the little room with two chairs, a long paper covered table and a lot of plastic knees (plus a plastic hip that threw me off for a second) with different shapes of stainless steel wedged into them. Ten minutes later Dr. Huber knocked and entered. Instead of asking me how I was doing and giving me a chance to start crying like last time, he started telling me what would be 'normal' for three months post-op. It ended up sounding like I was more normal than I thought I was except for the 'hitch' in the left knee that you're tired of hearing about. Also, he thought I should be farther along with pain-free walking (hitch aside) which, he said, could be attributed to having simultaneous bilateral total knee replacements (vs. one at a time) and not having the support of a good leg during recovery.
Watching while I walked down the hall, dragging my left leg behind me, he decided my IT band was the root of the evil (that will make Vinny the therapist happy), that I could keep doing the stretching exercises I'd been doing (that don't seem to help all that much) and it would eventually get better. OR he could give me a cortisone injection to help me with the hump I couldn't get over. The thought of another injection made me nauseous and we (Vince, Huber and I) started talking about the downfalls of American medicine and knee replacement statistics. Guess I was only partly engaged in the dialog because a one second break in the conversation was just enough for me to ask (blurt out) if he still had time to give me an injection. I'm not sure I'd even really decided I wanted the injection. It was like something inside decided for me, relayed the message to my vocal cords and ten minutes later I walked out of the little room like a ballerina.
At his request, I twirled over to the physical therapy wing of the clinic to tell Vinny the therapist about the corner I'd just turned and he was as happy as I was.
Driving home the numbing agent, (and at least part of the reason for my perfect pain-free gait) injected with the cortisone started to wear off. After 15 minutes of moaning and squirming I was back to better than before the injection although not as good as when I left. But still good...actually still great.
A few non-posted highlights are squished into my memory, but about yesterday...
BIG day. It was my three month follow-up. I followed the assistant to the little room with two chairs, a long paper covered table and a lot of plastic knees (plus a plastic hip that threw me off for a second) with different shapes of stainless steel wedged into them. Ten minutes later Dr. Huber knocked and entered. Instead of asking me how I was doing and giving me a chance to start crying like last time, he started telling me what would be 'normal' for three months post-op. It ended up sounding like I was more normal than I thought I was except for the 'hitch' in the left knee that you're tired of hearing about. Also, he thought I should be farther along with pain-free walking (hitch aside) which, he said, could be attributed to having simultaneous bilateral total knee replacements (vs. one at a time) and not having the support of a good leg during recovery.
Watching while I walked down the hall, dragging my left leg behind me, he decided my IT band was the root of the evil (that will make Vinny the therapist happy), that I could keep doing the stretching exercises I'd been doing (that don't seem to help all that much) and it would eventually get better. OR he could give me a cortisone injection to help me with the hump I couldn't get over. The thought of another injection made me nauseous and we (Vince, Huber and I) started talking about the downfalls of American medicine and knee replacement statistics. Guess I was only partly engaged in the dialog because a one second break in the conversation was just enough for me to ask (blurt out) if he still had time to give me an injection. I'm not sure I'd even really decided I wanted the injection. It was like something inside decided for me, relayed the message to my vocal cords and ten minutes later I walked out of the little room like a ballerina.
At his request, I twirled over to the physical therapy wing of the clinic to tell Vinny the therapist about the corner I'd just turned and he was as happy as I was.
Driving home the numbing agent, (and at least part of the reason for my perfect pain-free gait) injected with the cortisone started to wear off. After 15 minutes of moaning and squirming I was back to better than before the injection although not as good as when I left. But still good...actually still great.
posted by Kathy at
11:31 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home